The first time I met Rosalio Rodriguez was over a decade ago,  as he and Charlie, his dog, were herding sheep along a barely-used county road south of Granger.   The two of them were sometimes running to keep up with the pack of about 60 head as they munched on grass along the roadside.   Then in his late-50s, this was a daily ritual, a task he enjoyed every day after working full-time at a printing company in Pflugerville.   

Recently, on one of those drives around East Williamson County, I was happy to see Rosalio, doing what he’s done for years along that same country road near his home.   This time, however, he had a new companion, Rambo, another large Great Pyrenees mix.  

Rambo, naturally protective, gave the photographer an initial frosty greeting, but once he got closer, all was well.

“Charlie died six months ago,” Rosalio told me.   Sighing, he mentioned Charlie lived 18 years.   A good long life. 

Rambo, only a year old, is stepping into big shoes, but doing well. 

Now 69, Rosalio is still working at the printing company, but just  three days a week.  He’s up and going on those days, making his way to work at 5a.m. in the Ford Ranger pickup he had when we met.   It’s got 300,000 miles on it, but like its owner, is still doing the work.    

The herd has thinned in recent years.   He’s currently overseeing about 45 head of sheep.   Recently, three lambs were born.   On this recent visit, one of the newborns, only 4 days old, joined the pack along the roadside, staying very close to its mama.   The other lambs, each just a day old, stayed nestled in the barn.

The years haven’t slowed him down.  I was impressed when Rosalio once again took off running to keep up with his sheep, Rambo matching every step.   

A cyclist appears in the distance on this still-quiet stretch of road.   Other than one pickup truck, it’s the only activity nearby for close to an hour.    Rambo watches as the cyclist passes, staying focused, but calm with his human nearby.  

Rosalio’s son Rosangel Rodriguez, joined by grandsons Rosangel, Jr., 8, and Royce, 10, join him for a few minutes.    The 8-year-old has the natural running gait of his grandpa.   Royce is close behind with dad.    They bring water for Rosalio, which he generously shares with a grateful Rambo.  

As the day’s light begins to fade, Rosalio and Rambo guide the herd back into their pasture.   I get a chance to see the newborn lambs in the barn.  

The next day is a work day, another early drive.   The sheep, and Rambo, will be ready for another outing  when he gets home. 

Continuity keeps us focused.   

The right light can take something mundane and transform it.   Hay bales, for instance.    What you see at mid-day isn’t what you see during the golden hour.  Especially on the Blackland Prairie.

While beautiful in expansive landscapes, cotton also lends itself to little details, like these leftover bolls after a field has been harvested in Wuthrich Hill.

Just some photos from recent walks in Taylor, all with that inexpensive little Olympus camera.   This area isn’t New England.  You won’t usually find those sweeping autumn  expanses here, but you’ll see some bright spots if you look.   The summer’s heat probably contributed to the algae in our rivers and streams.   Thankfully, it’s moseying on out of here.   Remember, these are from walks.   I don’t spend much time with any subject, but find it useful to record what I see.

When sufficiently energized, I’ll often wander out of Williamson County into Milam or Bell Counties.   Western Milam County provided a nice interlude last evening.   There are still places where traffic headaches don’t interrupt the work at hand.   Someone mentioned that old structure and gas pump a few years ago.   A version is included tonight.   The friend described it as an old road house, but I’m thinking it was a country store that also pumped gas.   It’s obviously been closed for a long time, but I’m glad to see it still there.   The others are just impressions for an early-evening rambling.

From my years growing up, I’ve always enjoyed window shopping.   My parents and I would visit downtown Texarkana at night, looking into the well-lighted windows at various shops.   This was before malls and strip shopping centers took hold.   Downtown was where you went to shop.   During a walk in Taylor last week, I noticed a  Main Street shop window adorned with a skeleton, wondering if it would be aglow at night.   When stopping by last night,  I was rewarded with an interesting scene, made more so by a group of young skateboarders whizzing by.   Sometimes, however, other things become intriguing.   A few yards away from the shop window, I started noticing how lights from vehicles, downtown lights and traffic signals played a little symphony of light on a bench.   It kept me entertained for a few more minutes, kind of like one of those color wheels we used to have on our aluminum Christmas tree many years ago.   But that’s another story.  Light just pulls one into its orbit.

The Walk to End Alzheimer’s was held Saturday morning at Old Settlers Park in Round Rock.   About 400 people, and a few pets, took part in an event designed to raise awareness (and funds) for this truly awful disease.  Participants made walks from 1 to to close to 3 miles.    While it hasn’t directly affected my family so far,   I’ve known families impacted, right on my street.   Included during Saturday’s walk were  groups as well as individuals.   The post opens with a photo taken from behind, a couple standing together before the start of the walk.  On her backpack was smiling face, the face of her grandmother, who died earlier this year.   I liked the energy and positivity of a lady named Odessa, the head of nursing at a facility dedicated to the treatment of memory care.   Her team, Team Tripp, honored a resident in their care  who died in 2020.    While I don’t post everything I document, this seemed like a message that needs to reach a wide audience.   Alzheimer’s is cruel.  

One of the most  fun outings I’ve had this week was attending “Gone Fishing,” the 19th Annual Fishing Tournament held Thursday and Friday at Taylor’s S.P.J.S.T. Senior Living.    A large pool was trucked onto the facility grounds, then stocked with 500 pounds of catfish.    The youngest person pictured is 84, the most senior, 104.    All were having a grand time!  In three photos, a lady in her mid-90s was coaxed into kissing her fish.  From the look on her face, I don’t that’ll become a regular habit!    When first arriving, most anglers were using worms as bait, some switching to chunks of hot dog, finally using shrimp, which seemed to be the hands-down winner with the fish.  Prizes were awarded in several categories, culminating in a Friday night fish fry.    This was a heart-warming event.   If you want to know the meaning of “S.P.J.S.T,” it’s Czech.   In that language: Slovanska Podporujici  Jednota Statu Texas.   In English: Slavonic Benevolent Order of the State of Texas.   Now you know.  But pay attention to the photos.

It’s not often I’m able to get out the door in a day’s early hours, but an opportunity came up this morning during a brief visit to the town square in Georgetown.  The first three photos are a while before sunrise, the last two about 25 minutes after the sun came up.   The front entrance of Grace Heritage Center opens the post.   At 9th and Main Streets, the center began life as Grace Episcopal Church in 1881.    I’m glad it’s been preserved.    The second and third photos were taken at the start of the monthly Pistons on the Square.   Friends advise those showing vehicles have to get there by 6:30 a.m. to be assured a spot for this low-key event.   That blue Chevy pickup truck is a 1952 model, the year I was born.    A window at the Georgetown Art Center reflects Grace Heritage Center.   The final image is an always barren tree at the corner of 9th and Church Streets.   Early morning light is pleasing.

In recent weeks, I’ve stopped by Georgetown’s Sunken Garden two or three times.  Located in San Gabriel Park, it’s a really nice place, but the main goal was to actually see a butterfly.   The lack of rain apparently has lessened what we’re able to see in our area.  This week I found a butterfly there.   Just the one, but that was enough.    Butterflies are flowers that dance for us.   Add to this post a couple shots of a very interesting plant,  a Plectranthus.  It’s  a perennial from Queensland, Australia.   The reason I know this is a little sign underneath the plant!   The last one?   Just a bumblebee at work.